


A Final Match

by Nymphadora23



Category: A Fine Balance
Genre: Afterlife, Bit of a canon fix it, Chess as symbolism, Gen, Maneck gets closure, Maneck is a cynic, May be a little OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:25:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7153430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nymphadora23/pseuds/Nymphadora23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he chose to throw himself into the path of a speeding train, he expected the world to cease to exist. Maneck was not a religious man, unable in his jaded of hearts to believe in some higher nirvana. Choosing death was choosing the nothingness, the sweet release from life and thoughts that made his head foggy. So it was a great surprise to him when he found himself not drifting senseless in a void, but rather standing in a more than familiar hostel room. Not just any room, either, and the familiarity made his skin crawl. </p>
<p>Maneck reunites with an old friend and the two debate. Written for an English project.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Final Match

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't exactly know what I wrote for this thing or if it's even remotely in character: let alone if anyone knows the book well enough to search for fanfiction of it. But I decided to post it anyways because I am a little proud of how this turned out.

The pain was staggering but brief; a sharp burst of agony quickly erupting over every inch of his body that fizzled out instantaneously. It was about as much as Maneck expected from choosing to be torn to shreds by a train and, distantly, he wondered how much of a delay his death caused. Would it be as brief as the one that happened when he first arrived in the city all those months ago? Would the unlucky souls slated to remove the bits of him from the tracks and train wonder about him for long? Most likely not. He was just a man, after all. In the face of so much despair that humans experienced on a daily basis, they simply had no room to take on his despair too.

When he chose to throw himself into the path of a speeding train, he expected the world to cease to exist. Maneck was not a religious man, unable in his jaded of hearts to believe in some higher nirvana. Choosing death was choosing the nothingness, the sweet release from life and thoughts that made his head foggy. So it was a great surprise to him when he found himself not drifting senseless in a void, but rather standing in a more than familiar hostel room. Not just any room, either, and the familiarity made his skin crawl. 

“Maneck, hello.”

Avinash sat in the same place he had always sat, his hands folded calmly on the rickety table. In front of him was the same chess board Maneck had kept, intact and with all pieces set up. His face wore a friendly smile, warm and inviting, but his eyes stared into Maneck’s so intently that he felt like he was being scrutinized under a microscope.   
A chair sat in front of the table, implicit with its mere presence. It was meant to be Maneck’s, just as it had been all those months ago.

For a moment, Maneck forgot to breathe. Here was Avinash, unscathed, alive and wanting his company of all things, sitting here as if nothing had transpired. It felt like a normal Tuesday night, one of the many that Maneck spent in Avinash’s room. They would play chess, discuss their lives, philosophical theories and toss jokes back and forth as though their lives would not be thrown to hell in the next few months. It almost made him doubt, for a few blissful moments, that the years he had spent since Avinash’s death were a mere figment of his imagination.

“Did you grow a beard?” Avinash puzzled. Ah, so he wasn’t that lucky.

Maneck attempted to shake himself from his reverie, blinking hard enough to see stars behind his eyelids. What was he even supposed to say to something like this? What could he say? The only thought that came to mind was to break down into ugly sobs on the carpet, but that wouldn’t get him the answers to the questions his mind was attempting to formulate. Avinash’s intent gaze didn’t help matters either, its weight citing a yet uncovered purpose to this meeting.  
The empty chair continued to sit, untouched, welcoming his presence. Under the too sharp gaze of his former friend, he allowed himself to finally sink into it. The creaks of the old wood greeted his ears like old friends.

While Maneck never answered the question Avinash had proposed, the latter did not readdress his query. Instead, the two men stared at the chess board for a moment or two, a breath held by their surroundings as the weight of the conversation the two would have bore down on their conscious. Or, it weighed on Maneck’s: Avinash didn’t seem as uncomfortable as Maneck felt. 

Avinash’s hand hovered over one of his pawns and moved it two spaces, an aggressive start to what should be a game with a slow build. Offensive tactic, then. Numbly, Maneck noted that Avinash didn’t play this way often. His moves were always careful and precise, attempting to compensate for whichever tactics his opponent would use. He was actually a brilliant tactician in that sense, something maybe the old Avinash would have chuckled over if Maneck had told him this.

When his move was completed, Avinash drew back and surveyed Maneck once more. He tilted his head quizzically, lips pressing together in a moment of deliberation before he spoke. “You killed yourself.”

Maneck felt himself frown. Of all the things to discuss, Avinash chose that topic? What about the uprisings he had led, the deterioration of their friendship, or even Avinash’s own death? Where would they get by discussing something as insignificant as Maneck’s death?

With pursed lips, Maneck moved a pawn of his own. It was a safe distance from Avinash’s, avoiding potential dangers of whatever his old friend might be trying to set up. Safe, defensive, something Maneck also didn’t play that often. He did not have the patience of Avinash. 

Deciding to ignore this statement, Maneck figured he should ask a question of more importance. However, there were a dozen questions he could ask, needed to ask, and it was hard to settle on just one line of inquiry. Maybe he should start small, get his bearings in order; that was the logical thing to do. And a good way to do that would be to address the elephant in the room. “Where are we?”

Avinash blinked, confusion flitting over his features as though it had never crossed his mind. Maybe he had been expecting Maneck to play along, ask no questions and just allow whatever Avinash wanted to happen come to pass. It had been the attitude he had carried towards Avinash’s political desires when they were alive, after all. 

“We’re not on Earth anymore.” Avinash responded when the confusion passed, moving another pawn without breaking their locked eyes. It was Maneck who broke this stare to examine the move he had made, noticing he had moved another pawn closer to where his own sat. Persistent and aggressive, that was certainly new. 

As Avinash leaned back, he fixed him with another imploring gaze. “You killed yourself.” He repeated, folding his hands once again.   
Maneck felt himself bristle with annoyance, beginning to feel all of the unsaid anger and hurt bubbling to the front. He was not the one who should be the subject of discussion here. “And you were killed.” He shot back, more out of instinct than anything. He moved another pawn two spaces, attempting to block off Avinash’s piece closest to his first pawn. 

Eyebrows rose at his snappish tone and that surprised expression was back on his face for another brief moment. Was he surprised that Maneck was hurt by his death? Thinking that made his irritability grow.

“I was killed because the pigs feared me.” He said carefully, as though Maneck were a man in shock that he needed to get back to sanity. His pawn moved, again approaching Maneck’s pawn. It was a stupid move, a move that Avinash shouldn’t have made. Maneck felt his eyes narrow carefully, but Avinash wasn’t done. “I don’t regret what I did.” 

Eyebrows rose at his old friend, shocked for a moment at what was being said. Considering everything that happened, could Avinash truly not care about the impact his murder had on everyone? Maybe Maneck was politically apathetic, but Avinash seemed surprisingly ignorant to those around him and how they felt. It was what made his irritation snap.  
He did not take mercy on Avinash’s mistake and moved his pawn forwards, knocking over the offending piece in its way. Setting it down with more force than what was probably necessary, he fixated his friend his own implicit stare. “Revolution didn’t just kill you.” 

Avinash frowned at him and Maneck could sense a flash of pain in his eyes. Did he know about his siblings? He must have, if he knew about Maneck’s own suicide. Bitterly, he wondered if he watched them hang those saris around their necks. 

He wondered if he watched it without remorse.

Silence fell upon the two old friends and in that, his strange irritation simmered down into the beginning blossoms of guilt. In the end, he didn’t want to fight Avinash or tear open old wounds. It wasn’t how he wanted to spend his afterlife, or what it might consist of. He just wanted to put this all behind them and embrace Avinash as his friend once more.

Avinash surveyed his felled pawn, an unreadable expression on his face. Maneck was about to open his mouth and apologize, but Avinash beat him to the punch by moving one of the farther pawns a single space. “You killed yourself.” He said a third time, as if that were the only thing he could say.

Maneck stopped feeling guilty for the time being.

“I’m not the one who matters here!” He protested, eyes wide with an incredulous stare. He barely glanced at his pawn as he moved it. “It wasn’t my actions that destroyed lives, my murder didn’t tear apart a family.” 

Now it was Avinash’s turn to narrow his eyes tiredly, also not really paying the board any mind as he made his move. “Are you implying that your suicide didn’t affect the lives of your friends either?” 

Maneck frowned harder, but found himself unable to really refute that. No, he could only imagine how Dina, Ishvar and Om would react when they heard the news. If they hear the news, that is.

“My death wasn’t preventable like yours was.” He settled on instead, pushing the image of his three friend’s grief stricken faces from his mind. It didn’t matter now, what’s done was done. 

“My actions were necessary, Maneck.” Avinash rebuffed as he made his move, sounding sick of the topic already. “Without a revolution, nothing will ever change. We would all stay oppressed and at the mercy of those better off than us. Didn’t my actions help in the cafeteria?” 

“In an unrefrigerated world, everything ends badly.” Maneck responded almost immediately, tone bitter as he moved his bishop into place. “Revolution just speeds up the inevitable.” 

He didn’t look, but Maneck was sure that Avinash’s expression must be surprised. It was a moment before he responded, slow and quiet and careful. “But that’s why revolution is needed. Our lives don’t need to end badly; we have the power to make the world a better place. If all of us just rallied against our overlords, we could really have an impact!”

Maneck couldn’t help the scoff that escaped his lips, nor the bitter chuckle that followed it. “When Om’s father tried to rebel, he got himself and the rest of his family killed. When Aunty tried living away from her oppressive brother, she ended up right back under him working as an unpaid slave. And then, when you tried to get better conditions for a place we were only going to inhabit for a few years anyways…” Maneck trailed off, eyeing Avinash. “Well. You ended up here.”

A piece was moved in front of Avinash’s king. Check.

Avinash was pursing his lips, expression one of rare annoyance. “If humanity did not rebel, we wouldn’t have progressed as we have.” He said, knocking over the threatening piece. “Look at the French Revolution, or the Russian revolution, or even Ghandi!” His tone quieted when he realized he was yelling, but his frown remained. “If we want anything good to come out of our lives, we need to rebel against our oppressors. The Emergency couldn’t have lasted forever.”  
'  
With sun damaged hands, Maneck carded a hand roughly through his locks; a telling of his nerves. He was both running out of moves to make offensively and rebuffs for Avinash’s statements. “But why is it your job?” He asked, though knew the protest was weak.

Just as expected, the statement was easily shot down. “Because its up to us to make a better world. The upper class won’t do it, the Prime Minister certainly won’t, we’re the only ones left!” Avinash’s piece moved into striking position. Check.

Maneck thwarted it, brushing the piece aside. “It didn’t even come close to making change. All anyone’s efforts have amounted to was pointless death and suffering.”

“Their deaths are not in vain, Maneck.” Avinash said, quieter now. “In every revolution for social change, there is going to be death. It’s inevitable because the people in control will do anything to silence us. But everyone falls from power at some point and soon they can’t argue when a gun is pointing at their head. The Prime Minister couldn’t, could she?”  
“Her assassination didn’t stop the corruption.” Maneck argued, beginning to pick of Avinash’s pieces. “Her assassination caused innocent Sikhs to be butchered in the streets by people who were supposed to be their friends.

Avinash returned fire, putting a bishop that was starting to make a move on his king out of commission. “The Prime Minister was only one of many, many corrupt people. There was no feasible way to build a new society when only part of the problem had been dealt with.”

Maneck frowned, exasperated. Talk of politics had always made his head hurt and his heart heavy. “Do you really believe you could have reshaped India with all of that? Our “oppressors” were strong, much too strong for some loosely shambled together force of college students.” 

“The storming of the Bastille in the French Revolution was also a loosely shambled together force.” Avinash quipped. “And they were so successful it’s France’s national holiday. Their independence day, even. Besides,” His gaze found Maneck’s again, his queen taking position near his king. “Don’t you want equality?” 

Check.

Maneck found himself quiet for a long moment, trying to figure out how he was supposed to answer. Of course he wanted equality! Then Om and Ishvar could live a happy life, Dina could live on her own and they could all be friends again without all of this emotional distance between them. But then he would remember that revolution was the thing that had separated Avinash and him in the first place and, no doubt, caused Om and Ishvar’s new beggar status. Why else would Ishvar be missing legs?

Half heartedly, he knocked the queen away from his king, leaving only their two kings on the board. All moves had been exhausted and the game had resulted in a stalemate, leaving the carnage of toppled pieces in its wake. Maneck allowed Avinash’s question to go unanswered, souring in the air as a heavy silence descended.

Avinash stood wordlessly, chair creaking with age as it was freed of its burden. Soft footsteps approached where Maneck sat, halting at his side. When Maneck looked up at his old friend, Avinash was staring at him with a much gentler gaze. “You killed yourself.” He said for the fourth time.

Weakly, Maneck gave a bark of laughter. It sounded more like hysteria than humor. “Why do you keep saying that? Are you a broken record?”

Avinash shook his head, not rising to the bait of the weak joke. “Out of all of us, including your friends, you were perhaps the most well off. But you were the one that killed yourself, not Om or Dina or Ishvar.” Maneck closed his eyes, sensed what was coming before the word left Avinash’s mouth. “Why?”

“Life… Is futile.” Maneck said slowly. Ironic, he had figured that one of the perks of dying would be that he wouldn’t have to justify his actions. Yet here he was, reliving old and new wounds with his former friend. “There’s so much despair and hopelessness in the world and whenever anyone tries to do anything about it, they wind up dead or worse. That’s all revolution has ever caused, short term. Despair, destruction, death, instability… What’s the point of living when nothing anyone does make a difference? I mean… I…” 

He didn’t know he was crying until he felt sturdy arms wrap around his frame, gently guiding him up from the chair into the warm embrace of Avinash. There was a hand at his back, rubbing soothing circles into his shaking frame while unleashing the worst of his pent up sobs. He cried for Dina, Ishvar, Om, Avinash, his parents and all the other people he was too weak to save.

Maneck wasn’t sure how long he stood there, quivering in his friend’s arms. All he knew was that, eventually, he had run out of tears and his eyes had run red with moisture. Avinash withdrew, eyeing him up and down with two parts sympathy and one part something indiscernible. Was it shock? Pride? But those things didn’t make sense, not considering the gravity of the situation.

“You should look in a mirror.” Avinash said, a small smile playing on his face, and that felt wrong too. What was there to possibly smile at? Neither of them had won the debate and the two of them were still dead.

But Maneck felt too tired to argue and moved to oblige, stepping towards Avinash’s desk with movements that didn’t feel like his own. A mirror sat there and Maneck had to pause, rack his brain with memories he tried to forget. Had a mirror always been there, or was it further evidence of this new reality they had found themselves in? 

When he looked at his reflection, however, answering this ceased to matter.

Gone was the beard he had worked so hard to groom and perfect, and the evidence of sun damage on skin that had retained a permanent tan had also magically vanished. Instead, he was left with the face of his college days, youthful in its robustness. The eyes, much to his surprise, did not look like the dead, empty pools that stared back at him from cracked mirrors in Dubai. Instead, they were deep and bright, an echo of happiness he had long since forgotten. The sight almost made him break into fresh tears.

Avinash joined him at his side, placing a hand at his shoulder as Maneck drank his new appearance in. “It’s closure, Maneck.” He explained. “You can rest easy now.” 

Closure. The word tasted strange and foreign on his tongue. Yet he couldn’t deny that there was a certain lightness in his chest, as though a weight he hadn’t known he had been carrying this whole time had been lifted. The lack of tension in his body made him sag against his friend, but he didn’t find it in himself to care. 

Neither he nor Avinash had really won the debate on revolution, nor had they really managed to change the others viewpoints past forcing them to acknowledge the other side of things. Maneck still felt a sense of despair as far as Avinash’s death was concerned, but the fight had left his system. 

In this in-between place, standing with his old friend, Maneck allowed his mind to take a breath and relax. It was many years overdue.


End file.
